


Of the Calamity and the 7th Astral Era

by bravevesperian



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Just a forewarning., M/M, There'll be mention of Estinien/Aymeric down the line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-04-05 18:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravevesperian/pseuds/bravevesperian
Summary: Sapho'li Rasasiri of the Upper Paths faces the Calamity alone. J'tomo Tia, the son of nomadic refugees from Ala Mhigo, braves it to get back to him.This is only the beginning.





	1. Calamity

The call to evacuate fell on mostly deaf ears. Where would they go? Those who were not even welcome within the circle of the guardian trees of Gridania had little recourse. Underground was the only way, some suggested. They would flee to the cavernous hidden cities of their Duskwight compatriots, finding the only shelter there was to be had. How could anyone hide from a falling star?

Sapho'li thought they were generous, to allow their small tribe sanctuary, but in the end only a few family groups had taken them up on the offer. His cousins and surviving half-brother were down below, but he had slipped away from the caravan at the last minute. He'd turned back against the flood of people heading for the secret entrance to the caverns, slipping between gaps as fleetfooted as he could.

His mother and her comrades were out there, fighting the Garleans and supporting Louisoix. Louisoix-- he'd heard the name many times now, and yet he only had the vaguest assertion of what such a man must be like. Surely, he was massive-- all Elezen towered over him, anyway. He understood little of the inner workings of this Circle of Knowing and Path of the Twelve. But he did understand that his mother and her partner's calling is what took them away on this fateful day. 

The fields of Carteneau were far away, and yet not really that far. Too close for comfort. Close enough to feel the ground tremble as the blazing debris began to rain down on the Black Shroud.

Sapho'li was only barely a man at his age, though already an accomplished Bard and teller of tales-- his songs could do nothing for the more stubborn members of his tribe as they fled wildly through the raging flames Bahamut brought down on them. He had turned to usher another wave of fleeing relatives into the dimness of the Mun-Tuy cellars when something had struck the stone above them and brought some of the masonry crashing down-- and directly onto him.

 

For weeks, the entirety of Aldenard seemed to be in a state of shock. The scars on the landscape belied the scars on the hearts of the people. Sapho'li woke up days later in an overcrowded infirmary, surrounded by conjurers and alchemists, his head and arm bandaged. He had somehow been carried all the way into Gridania proper. His first realization was that he may never pluck a harp or pull a bowstring with any skill ever again. The second was that he couldn't _remember_. 

He couldn't remember who he had lost. Someone had gone away, but their faces and names were cloaked in a white fog no matter how hard he tried to remember. His mother's name was his own, at least, and he had siblings-- he just knew it-- but who they were he couldn't recall. Where and what he had been was lost in the same fog that cloaked the identity of the vanished Warriors of Light.

Worse still-- he was in a city and he didn't recognize it. He couldn't find his own home or remember where he had been before. It was worse when no one recognized _him_. Everywhere he looked, he was met with the cold stares of indifference that others afforded as stranger, even in times of crisis.

Though the physical pain was great, the loneliness was worse, and he wandered the leafstrewn paths of Old Gridania for hours when he was finally released. It was there that a Wood Wailer accosted him, clearly already at the edge of his wits.

"You there, and whence is it that you think you're going?" Sapho'li turned to him, bedraggled and still a bit foggy-headed.

"Pardon me good sir, but-- I. I don't know. I'm not certain," He answered weakly. 

"Your... _kind_ isn't terribly common 'round here you know. Aren't you from that rag-tag bunch out in the Upper Paths?" He asked. There was no lack of disdain, but Sapho'li's state seemed to at the very least cushion his ire. 

"I... The Upper Paths? ...Quarrymill. That's right. I think that's where I was." Sapho'li muttered under his breath. The Elezen man let out an exasperated huff. 

"We've not got the resources to be handling all of the Shroud's bounty come hither and fro. You'd best get a move on." 

The smell of wood smoke hung everywhere in the air. Some trees had miraculously escaped complete incineration while others had been razed entirely to nothing. In most places, the fire had burned so hot and so fast that it seemed as if it had been deliberate and concentrated, burning the leaves and leaving the boughs. Walking amid the ashes, he felt the way that he imagined the wood must have. 

Quarrymill was in no better state than Gridania proper, and the people moving in and out were as shell-shocked as he was. Out of energy and without anything else he could think of to do, he spent the night curled up against some recently looted barrels on one of the wooden decks. At first, sleep was fitful, and the throbbing ache of his broken arm and concussed skull made it hard to drift off, but when he did, it was the blissful and empty sleep of exhaustion that found him. 

\----------------------------------------

J'tomo's tribe had been traveling back to the Black Shroud from Thanalan when the news came. People at Drybone were screaming and shouting, as the Nunh gathered their small group together. The moon was coming down. They'd heard rumors about it up until then but only upon seeing its hulking presence drifting closer could they believe it. 

It was a last minute decision to try to flee into the Black Shroud, though J'tomo couldn't understand why. As shards of the lesser moon fell into the atmosphere, they scattered and he found himself huddling in the dark shelter of Thal's respite. 

It was by some grace or sheer luck that the place didn't cave in, but the hours wiling away while the horrible sounds of things rocking the very firmament seemed to draw on for an eternity. He thought about the network of tribes and clans all over the desert-- Little Ala Mhigo. He thought about the network of support they'd built across locales; a network of camaraderie between Duskwights, Seekers, and Keepers. He thought about the little Keeper he'd met as a child in the Upper Paths, crying alone because he was a boy and his mother lived among people who only allowed girls and he knew he'd be cast out some day. 

He'd been going to see him, laden with the first profit the company had managed to turn in a long time. Things had finally been looking up when word of more and more Garlean infringement had started to dampen things. Maybe, he realized then, the news of an impending apocalypse had been what loosened some Ul'dahn's purse strings. We were all going to die-- why not spend what coin is left and enjoy yourself while you could?

J'tomo had lost track of the time, and when he stepped out into the failing light, found the place choked in smoke blown in from the Black Shroud. His tribe members were nowhere in sight, and he was afraid of what he'd find behind him, so he put his kerchief on tight 'round his face and plunged ahead into the dark. 

He'd set up camp when he was sure the fire wasn't too close, or maybe it had gone out-- and rose with the sun as he often did. There were people on the road, some carrying wounded on their back. He wished he could do something, wished to hell he'd learned some healing arts, anything at all-- but he pushed on. It felt selfish, but the person he wanted to see in the Northern Shroud was all he could think of.

The Lower Paths were in shambles. At first, he thought he might not make it through and likely wouldn't have if not for the Wood Wailers already building scaffolding over debris and holding back the hoard of awful beasts spilling out from inside of the carcass of a tree so big that he had always thought it was a large hill or a small mountain, now broken open. He picked up the pace, climbing over smoldering debris and trying not to get burned on the way. 

When he got to Quarrymill, he found a Padjal and a handful of conjurers trying to keep everyone calm and organized as they came rushing in and out, leading wounded. The area near the entrance was a sea of bodies draped in cloth, and he hurried by if only to avoid looking for too long for fear that he'd recognize a hand or foot.

He was standing there on the other side of the creek, trying to catch his breath when he noticed the lump of someone laying beside some discarded barrels. There were others nearby, shell shocked and despondent, but no one seemed to be paying the lump any mind. Only when he got closer, did J'tomo recognize the familiar skin tone-- warm and deep, the contrast of light hair, tail, and ears. 

He rushed to his side and dropped to his knees, relieved to find him warm and breathing. 

"Saph?"

Sleep had been such a relief that he didn't want to open his eyes, but surely, surely someone was calling his name. Again, he heard his name called, and he blinked blearily, though the late morning light was blinding. 

"Sapho, can you hear me?" He let out a grunt in response, and gritted his teeth at the pain moving caused him. 

His eyes struggled to focus, and he took several long moments to recognize the dark, dark-- almost black-- gaze of J'tomo Tia, the Jackal tribe boy he'd known since they were young. They didn't get to spend long amounts of time witheach other-- it was every summer that his band of refugees came through, but he knew him well. 

"Wh--what brings you here? Should you not be with the others far, far away from all this?" He managed after a few minutes. 

"I'll be reight. Gods Saph-- I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't find ye." He was patting Sapho'li's shoulder to comfort him, but the movements sent spikes of pain into his still-to-be-healed arm. 

"What happened?" Sapho'li asked after another moment.  
"Things started a'fallin' from the sky n' afore I knew it, we got sep'rated out by Thal's Respite." He answered breathlessly.

"I don't know where to go. I've lost them all, or mayhaps they've not come up from below..." Sapho'li trailed off weakly.

"It's alright. We're gonna be alright, you just wait n' see." He said, but he wasn't sure he believed it. "I've got my pack with me, n' there ain't nothin' in these woods what can flay _me_." 

Sapho'li tried to help J'tomo set up camp, but he felt useless. Everything he did made his head spin, and once the bedroll was laid out, J'tomo sat him down and forbade him from any more one-handed heavy lifting. He slipped in and out of sleep as the day progressed, and only found any energy as the sun set-- which was rather typical for him and his people. 

He sat with a weathered mug of hot tea that had been brought to him at some point, sipping at it and staring into the murky gloom of his home forest, forever changed when J'tomo crawled into the front of the little tent and folded his legs under him. The Seeker hid the emotions tearing through him well behind his famously sunny demeanor. 

"'Ow ye feelin', Saph?" He asked cordially, as if the world hadn't literally just fallen down around them. 

"A spot better I suppose, though I'm sure there are those much worse off than I," He mused. 

"Now look, I know it ain't really the right time with all this n' all but. I've a bauble I wanted t'give ye." He said. 

Sapho'li raised his head, though it pained him, and watched as J'tomo went to the over-sized hiking pack he'd been lugging through the forest. From it, longways, he drew something that was as long as the pack itself and was wrapped densely in heavy felt that on its own probably cost more than Sapho'li had ever earned in his life. 

He held it out to the other Miqo'te for a moment, but drew it back remembering the state of his hand and arm and began unwrapping the parcel. 

At first, it appeared to be a long pole-- but as the fabric fell away, it revealed itself to be a longbow made of polished cedar, intricately carved and inlaid with mythril. It glinted in the light of their little fire almost as bright as the depths of J'tomo's eyes. 

"J'tomo, this is... there's no way I can accept such a gift. I could never hope to repay you." 

"I weren't thinkin' about no repayment. I just saw it and wanted ye t'have it." He said simply. 

Sapho'li reached out tentatively and took the bow, feeling the leather wrapped grip beneath his fingers and hung his head. 

"'Tis beautiful, but I fear I shan't be pulling or plucking any strings ere long," He said. 

"Oh, nonsense! You'll see. I got plenty a'gil from our last haul n' there are conjurers crawlin' all about. We'll get ye healed up right as rain, I swear it." 

Nothing felt like it was going to be right, but Sapho'li was so relieved not to be alone in the midst of it all that the tears building in his eyes were short lived.

 

The next day was when the confirmation came, spreading on the lips of the refugees camped out across the remnants of the Shroud. Louisoix was confirmed dead or at the least, gone, as were the Warriors of Light. Everyone puzzled over it, baffled that they couldn't remember their names or faces. Sapho'li still couldn't connect the news with his missing memories of his family.

J'tomo knew he should look for his friends, but surely they'd meet up here if anywhere-- it had been their destination in the end. He shrugged the guilt and tried to deny himself the warm infatuation that had always brought him back to Quarrymill. It wasn't an infatuation with the forest or its haughty overlords-- it had always been Sapho'li, and Sapho'li alone.


	2. Echo

The high-pitched whistle of a bolt flying pierced the air as Sapho'li danced back from a blow. His party, a group of sell-swords hired on by the Wood Wailers to bolster their over-taxed ranks, wheeled in motion around him. His wrist ached and pulled, but he plucked the strings until they sang with the power of his aether, voice rising above the din. 

He knew how it bolstered their ranks, could see the swelling of pride, the depth of the fury of battle as they fought. It was so common these days-- to have to fight side by side even with strangers, but there was a strange camaraderie in it. He knew he could do it. He knew his skills inside and out, and he'd spent weeks working at it, even though he still grimaced at the pain from time to time. 

A chill pierced the air as an oversized Diremite went down, the forward whip of its tail just barely nicking his arm enough to leave a welt. That was too close for comfort. 

He hated how it slowed him down, the tasks that what were once effortless caused him to have to reign in his focus over the pain. In the end, it seemed that his training and rehabilitation wasn't enough. 

The corrupted aether that the Calamity had wrought had unleashed unseen terrors on the Twelveswood, and the twisted thing that had once been an imp was too fast for him, even with his song on the breeze. The blast of magic hit him hard, and he watched the effects of his ballad fall away as he languished on the ground stunned, trying to right himself. A moment later, the conjurer trying to soothe their wounds went down beneath a rain of razor-sharp ice. 

The warrior bellowed, throwing himself against the Imp as he took another blow for Sapho'li's sake, and it took the Thaumaturge's fire to end it, just by the skin of their teeth. 

"You Twelve-damned, bastard wood-rat!" The man roared as he rounded on the struggling Bard. "If ye can't even keep yer swivin' harp strung, what good are ye? Yer the worst damned bard I ever saw." 

Sapho'li scampered back from the terrible display and the ax being brandished at him, apologizing profusely. He was expecting another blow to go with the one that he was sure he'd be feeling for days, but it seemed the warrior had decided it wasn't worth his time. He turned instead and knelt over the body of their fallen conjurer, shaking his head in silence. 

The guilt settled in heavy and hard. If he had only known his limits-- if he had only listened to the nagging voice inside of him telling him that his injury wasn't something he could recover from, maybe he could have forestalled another tragedy. 

He sat dejectedly on the wooden stairs through the debriefing as their party leader delivered the report to the Wailer Sargent they'd contracted with, despondent and dejected as merchants made their way down the only road that cut through Quarrymill. It was there that J'tomo found him, returning from a hunt. 

"Sapho, what in the seven hells happened?" He felt like J'tomo was asking that an awful lot lately. 

"I... I let slip my grip. I was hit. Our conjurer... didn't make it." 

J'tomo was silent, watching the other Miqo'te with a furrowed brow. When he said nothing, Sapho'li continued. 

"He said I was the worst Bard he'd ever seen. The _worst_ , J'tomo." 

"Bollocks!" J'tomo shouted, and the outburst was so sudden it made Sapho'li jump. "It ain't your fault, Saph. Like he don't know everybody's recoverin' from some wound or another. Don't ye pay no mind," He insisted.

"Someone is _dead _, J'tomo!" Sapho'li shouted back up at him.__

__Cowed, the Seeker wilted slightly, his ears drooping. "I'll 'ave 'is guts, Saph. Tell me who said it."_ _

__Sapho'li shook his head. "He had the right of it. I can't put the lives of others in danger for my own pride."_ _

__"Then we'll-- t'hells with this place! We'll go do summat else. Some _where_ else. You c'n learn a new trade, n' ye still got yer voice. Ye got the most beautiful voice, Saph."_ _

__The thought had never occurred to him. Sapho'li blinked, violet gaze lowered. "But... should I leave this place. Should I go wither-knows-where... what if. What's to say my family shouldn't come looking for me?"_ _

__"You can't by rights stay stuck forever. We'll leave word with th' padjali. He'll help, sure." J'tomo was so earnest, so genuine. Sapho'li nearly agreed with him._ _

__"I don't know, J'tomo."_ _

__"Listen t'me. You can do something that don't take such finesse, somethin' that'll help build up yer strength. I know the desert ain't much t'yer likin' but, the Sultansworn ye see--" As he continued his heartfelt plea, a Lalafellen thaumaturge and his much taller companion brushed past him, and the world suddenly stopped._ _

__The aether pulsed around them, and suddenly everything went dark._ _

__A woman lay languishing, mortally wounded. Her small friend stood nearby, clutching her hand. A young girl wept, her face smudged with dirt._ _

__"You must... get her 'cross the wall. Please, you must."  
"Don't you talk too much, it's gonna be okay. I'll see to it. Everything will be alright."   
"With you in charge, m' sure it... I'll be reight,"  
"Your accent's showing," The Lallafel teased gently.   
"Ought t'... if it's here I'm gonna go." _ _

__He shushed her, and held her hand as she faded away, and the aetheric pulse returned suddenly to wipe away the vision just as suddenly as it had come._ _

__Sapho'li stared up at J'tomo, bewildered and feeling terribly sick. J'tomo said nothing, but stumbled over to sit on the wooden step next to him, his head lowered as he tried to catch his breath._ _

__"Seven 'ells--!"  
"Did you... see that too?" Sapho'li asked. _ _

__J'tomo nodded, but it looked like he regretted it._ _

__"Are we goin' mad? Where'd that lil' apple-head shite go? I wanna word--"  
"Seems to have vanished with the wind. Do you think he did something to us? Have we been cursed?"_ _

__"I think I gotta lie down, I ain't feelin' so good."_ _

__It was their first brush with the strange new power, but it wouldn't be the last.  
\--------------_ _

__"Aye, there ye have it-- just swing it like that." J'tomo stood close by as Sapho'li tried to get used to the weight of the worn bronze sword in his hands. He followed the basic swings that the Seeker had taught him, but still didn't feel confident in it. He'd already drilled them over and over for days_ _

__He thought back to that day when he'd last picked up his bow, harangued by the memories as if they were ghosts. The Calamity had taken much and more from him, and he wondered often if it was deserved. Now though, he felt a small spark of wanting to take something back-- of wanting to protect others where he had so failed to do so._ _

__Sapho'li cut arcs through the air, and then suddenly, J'tomo got to his feet, his lance lowered at him._ _

__The sounds of their weapons clashing echoed off of the trees as though to call the elementals to watch the bout. A glanced blow caught the shoulder of Sapho'li's tunic and pierced the delicate linen, but he didn't stop. A fury he didn't know he possessed had taken over him, and he spun and swung with the wooden shield on his good arm to throw J'tomo's lance aside. Without thinking, as if instinct, he moved in and brought the blade to the seeker's throat while he was stunned._ _

__"S-S-Saph-- Oi, s' it just me, or does summat feel different t' ye? Like ah-- I dunno. Like ye got _supercharged_ or what have ye?" He spluttered, voice cracking and suddenly unwieldy. _ _

__"Is that what you deign to call it? Well yes, I suppose perhaps..." There was no connecting it to the strange power they'd encountered days before, and no name for it either. It would be long yet still before they knew it as it was: The Echo._ _

__Sapho'li had always been somewhat timid, as many of his kind were. The sons of Keeper women were not encouraged to these more rough-and-tumble feats. He hadn't expected the surge of confidence that a blade in his hand had given him: and what was more-- with a shield, perhaps he could protect the Shroud. Protect those who had survived. Those who would still need to be protected even in the future._ _

__The look of shock and surprise on J'tomo's handsome features filled him with a sense of warmth that he hadn't yet known, and he welcomed it. Perhaps the way of the Paladin was a better fit for him, after all._ _

__Finally, he lowered his blade and gave his friend a toothy grin that showed his fangs. It didn't seem to help his condition in the least. If anything, it made his already exertion-reddened face deepen in its shade of dusky pink. Sapho'li decided he rather liked that, too._ _

__"I heard that an envoy from Ul'dah shall grace the Twelveswood with their presence, ere long-- Within a moon." He said, as if the thought had only just crossed his mind._ _

__The bemused expression on J'tomo's face waxed to one of interest and hopefulness. "That right? Where'd ye come by that shiny nugget?"_ _

__"A little birdy told me, you might say." Really, he'd heard it by eavesdropping while he waited for gathering work at the Adder's Nest, but that ruined the mystique a bit._ _

__"S'that mean ye've thought about my suggestion?" J'tomo asked, his tale swishing to and fro in his anticipation._ _

__" _Aye_ , I have." He said, playfully mimicking his Ala Mhigan accent. _ _

__Sapho'li loved the Black Shroud with all of his heart. He had always wanted to protect it, and the lesser fortunate who found refuge there. If he couldn't do it as a bard, then he'd have to leave the wood's embrace to gain the strength. No one could fault him for that, right? And maybe someday he'd find the answers to all of his questions-- and his family._ _

__"Oh, Saph you won't regret it, on m'honor, I swear it! Yer gonna love Ul'dah, the city-- it's got ever'thing ye could want and more."_ _

__"I believe it, you've not got to risk your honor on my behalf."_ _

__"But I would," He answered almost too fast._ _

__"I know," Sapho'li answered, his voice tender._ _

__"Destroyer spare me," J'tomo muttered under his breath.  
"From what?"  
"You." _ _

__\------------------------------------_ _

__The airship tickets-- and bribing for the clearance to buy them-- cost nearly all of what was left of J'tomo's savings. It might be rough at first, he knew. J'tomo had told him how things were there for refugees and really: anyone who couldn't make the coin to look like they were of the more discerning monetarist class. It couldn't be any worse than the naturalist dogma that made Gridania smothering._ _

__He found he didn't much like being in the air. He couldn't trust the contraption to stay afloat-- but he still managed to doze off on the bench next to J'tomo, the daytime sun making him drowsy as ever. It was to show him the sight before them that J'tomo finally nudged him awake, his eyes on the horizon as the massive city loomed closer._ _

__"Saph, look-- there she is, the jewel of the desert!" Sapho'li finally forced himself to overcome if for a moment his dislike of the height and wide-openness of the space and looked to where he was being directed. There rose on the skyline a city the likes of which he had never seen, the domes of her spires glinting like silver in the distance. It took his breath away._ _

__"Y'know what else is there? Trade guilds! Ye can finally put that nose o' yers for ores and shiny things t'good use."_ _

__He found himself wondering why J'tomo had undertaken this quest of his, as if Sapho'li's well being and development was his own personal project. In a way, it frightened him. He wasn't sure that he'd live up to the man's expectations. In fact, he was sure he'd fail and fail again as he already had._ _

__"I shall give it my all," He said quietly, barely audible over the rushing wind._ _

__"I reckon."_ _

__Sapho'li didn't think it strange or uncomfortable when a moment later, J'tomo pulled him into an embrace and rested his chin atop his head. He pressed into the warmth at the hollow of his throat, thinking that he smelled like sunlight and earth and maybe a little like _home_._ _


	3. Scion

Sapho'li shook while he knelt before the chamber of rule and said his oath. J'tomo knelt next to him held his head high, beaming with the pride of a dream long unrealized come to fruition. Now they were sworn brothers-in arms, beholden to a single cause that they saw as righteous. To the weak, and to the Sultana they pledged their blades with an unwavering faith.

When they had arrived, Sapho'li had not liked the idea of pledging himself to the Sultana. 

"But what sense does it make to swear fealty upon pain of death before someone I know nothing of?" He knew the importance of the Eorzean alliance, and thought most of their leadership to have good heads on their shoulders, but all his life he had had loyalty to no one-- just as they had give him and his Couerl Claw family none. 

"The Sultana stands fer all tha's good n' right n' the world, haven't ye heard?" J'tomo said it as if it were an obvious fact. "She were allus doin' her best fer us, even tho' she didn't 'ave te." 

Sapho'li frowned and nodded, though he wasn't sure he could agree. 

Then, a few days later as they walked the market, he bumped into a Lallafel girl that he hadn't even seen and knocked her sprawled flat onto her back. He apologized profusely of course, and she tittered and introduced herself as Lady Lilira. 

"I am ever so sorry, truly-- I must needs make it up to you," Sapho'li continued his grovelling, and she giggled.

"I promise I am quite alright good sir-- you must be from the Twelveswood, are you not? Ah, and trust me-- I'm not in need of anything. Really, you're being too hard on yourself." 

"I-- yes, I am." He confirmed.

"But you wear a sword and shield as one of my-- as the gladiators of this lovely city," She continued. 

"R-Right! You see, I thought that perhaps when I could prove myself, the path of the Paladin might let me find the strength to protect our homeland-- to protect all of Eorzea." He found himself saying, though he knew it was perhaps a bit overly personal. 

The girl's eyes lit up with something like mischief. "Is that so? You're a bit slender for a paladin but you know, I bet lieutenant captain Jenlyns can toughen you up. I could put in a good word or two for you." 

"Truly? You'd do that for me, albeit a request from a man so clumsy as I?"   
"I don't see why not. You tell him that Lady Lilira sent you. He'll relent, I am certain of it." 

She bowed and tottered off on her way, and not five minutes later an older man barely taller than her came running through the exchange, calling her name as though he had lost a prized pet. 

\------------------------

"Ye met _who_?" J'tomo nearly choked on his ale as Sapho'li slipped into the seat across from him at the Quicksand.

"A Lady Lilira," He confirmed. 

"You-- ye don't _know_ , do ye?" J'tomo lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, though it made him hard to be heard over the raucous noise of the tavern. 

"Know what?" 

"I've heard tell on the streets that the Sultana herself sneaks out and about on her own-- and she takes on the personage of a young noble lady. That sounds like 'er." He said. 

"You're out of your head," Sapho'li argued. 

Movement at the entrance drew Sapho'li's eye, and he went quiet for a moment before his lips parted. Curious, J'tomo followed his gaze to find him fixated on a Hyuran man in a dark tunic with three women clinging for purchase to his arms. On either side of his neck were dark marks that were of some Sharlyan significance he knew-- but of what he had no idea. 

He found himself frowning, wondering what had caught the Keeper's attention so abruptly. Something of a sense of jealousy welled up in him as Sapho'li stood rather suddenly from his chair, knocking it back so much that it nearly toppled over. 

"I'll be buggered-- Master Thancred!" He called out, high and piercing as a Bard's voice might be. 

The man's face lit up with recognition as he disentangled himself effortlessly from his entourage to trot over, smiling a winning smile that nearly made J'tomo's heart wilt in defeat immediately. 

"Well if it isn't young Sapho'li! I had wondered if the Black Shroud had swallowed you up for good last time I payed a visit. How goes your Barding?" He asked with a flourish. 

At that, Sapho'li's face dropped, his expression as dark as his complexion for a moment. Thancred smacked his lips, trying to think of something to say to the awkward and sudden silence, and managed to continue with nary a splutter-- "Well, no matter! It seems you've taken up the honorable sword and shield in this fine city. It has no end of pleasures you might find, the sword being the least of them, if you catch my meaning." He said playfully. 

"I have! I... I'm set to take the Paladin's Oath." He announced firmly, though he had been wavering only moments before. 

"Is that right? I do believe you rather suited to the job. But-- don't give up on your voice, old boy. You can do that for dear old Thancred, can't you?" He said pleasantly. 

"I... Right. You're right. I shan't." 

"That's a dear, ah-- and who is this strapping young lad with you tonight?" He asked, addressing J'tomo who looked suddenly owlish and tried to hide behind a swig of his ale. 

"J'tomo-- I've known him longer than I have you, though we met only when his caravan came through. 'Tis him I have to thank for leading me here, and out of the Calamity." He said. J'tomo flushed and tried to give a polite greeting. 

"So 'tis him we have to thank for saving your more timid skin, I ascertain. For that I am most grateful. Sapho'li here is... well. He's a dear friend, and the Calamity has already taken enough from us..." Thancred's expression glazed over as that odd fog that came with their altered memories came over him-- he suddenly could not remember how he had met Sapho'li, though with his tendencies he supposed that was his own fault. 

"My mother," Sapho'li chirped, his ear twitching. "You-- you knew my... mother." The same fog seemed to invade the Miqo'te's mind at the insistence. 

"Your mother..." Thancred echoed, his fingertips brushing the stubble that had deigned to grace his chin. "'Tis odd, that same haze invades my mind even now-- could it be...?"

"It might behoove you, Sapho'li, to speak with the members of my order. Well-- what's left of my order. Perhaps together, we can put some words to this mystery of ours." He glanced over his shoulder, and caught sight of a rather imposing figure lingering near the doorway, cloaked-- his arms crossed over his chest. 

Thancred groaned audibly and sighed. "--But that must needs wait for the dawn of another day. Duty calls-- I do hope to see you 'round more often." 

He trotted back to whence he had come, and to the imposing Elezen man who had seemed to warrant his attention without another word, leaving Sapho'li to awkwardly return his chair to its former position. 

He and J'tomo picked at their meals in silence for a few minutes longer, before the Seeker piped up: "So, you sweet on 'im?" 

"W-wha-- Who? _Thancred_? I daresay he is how do you say: In a league of his own. Anyroad-- he is like that with everyone, especially any lady that pays him mind." 

"Skirt chaser, eh? Seems the type. What's got you so chuffed, eh?" J'tomo teased.

"Mayhap I fancy the _idea_ of him, a bit. Is that... do you find it odd?" 

"Nah, not at all. I could fancy a bloke like that myself, if he could keep 'is hands to 'imself." Sapho'li laughed at that, glad for the break in tension-- and for the affirmation that J'tomo didn't think it odd that he had an eye for men. 

\-------------------

"I pledge my fealty to the Sultana, Nanamo Ul Namo, Seventeenth in the line of Ul. I swear to defend the weak, and uphold the scales of justice. May I walk in the light of the Crystal, and be an instrument of its light." The words, though rehearsed, still felt foreign and strange on Sapho'li's lips. He listened in silence as J'tomo repeated the same pledge, though rougher and with a bit less finesse as they knelt upon the silver tiles before the chamber of rule.

"Forgive me my lateness, honorable sirs-- but I had heard that today my Sultansworn gain two outsiders among their ranks." A voice rang out clear as a bell from above them, and the pair lifted their heads as Captain Jenlyns stepped aside and promptly bowed-- so quickly that it came off as nearly clumsy. 

Down the steps of the Royal Promenade came General Aldynn, and upon his shoulder perched the Sultana herself. Sapho'li tried to hide his jaw drop-- he knew upon seeing her that she really had been the girl he'd met at the Sapphire Exchange after all. J'tomo watched his reaction to confirm his own suspicions, heart warmed. 

"Outsiders once, but no longer. Here, I should say in no short manner that all sons of Ala Mhigo are especially welcome." She addressed J'tomo first, and he bowed his head, overcome with a wave of emotion. At that, even general Aldynn gave him a small salute that seemed to nearly rattle his bones from afar. 

"And you, come from the bower of your home forest-- you give up much to serve me. I trust in the kindness of your heart and thank you from the bottom of mine." 

"Thank you, Highness." He and J'tomo said nearly in unison. 

The crystals they were presented with held many secrets, as all condensed aether did-- but they wore them with pride. Sapho'li's shone ever at the breastplate of his armor on a chain, a reminder of the Sultana's warm kindness that day. 

Thus began the long days that grew into years as they trained and studied under the tutelage of the Sultansworn, even through upheaval and the dishonoring of their order, never losing sight of the goal they had in their hearts. All along, the power that had begun to take root inside of them grew, and grew alongside them, as did something else more subtle and hard to pick up on.


	4. Voidsent

It had been years since the lesser moon had fallen upon Aldenard. The world had found itself in a bit of what could almost be called normal in the years since. Sapho'li's arm had regained its strength, though he had never picked up a bow again. The one J'tomo had bought for him hung somewhat dusty on the mantle in his small apartment, well-maintained, but never strung.

He was one of the few Sultansworn who could walk his beat with his head held high. Unlike most of them, He and J'tomo had grown used to the ire of those around them over the years long before any dishonor befell their order. The decline in popularity and respect from the public did little to dampen their spirits. 

It had surprised even him, how he responded to the structure of daily life as a Paladin. It had taken time, but he had mostly managed to reset his natural sleep cycle-- he was practically properly Diurnal. As Ul'dah began to flourish once more under the gentle guidance of her Sultana, so too did Sapho'li's once fractured mind. While he still searched for clues about his lost family, he had found a worthy cause and focus in serving the needs of the people. 

If the time after the Calamity could have been called peaceful at all, there was a near lull in many things. When that quiet had stretched on long enough, the rumble of unrest was sure to follow. 

Sapho'li and J'tomo were assigned a case involving a cult that worshiped the lesser moon of Dalamud. Jenlyns, now not just _a_ captain but _the_ captain had sought him out specifically-- it was rumored that they might be hiding out somewhere in the depths of the Black Shroud, though they had activities tracing the cabal into Eastern Thanalan. 

This was what brought them for the first time in nearly five years to the border of the Twelveswood. They now rode astride their own Chocobos-- a luxury afforded almost solely to those who were in direct service to the Grand Companies of Eorzea. They brought with them only the essentials and a bundle of evidence and clues to reference. They dressed plainly, as men traveling-- though years of Paladin experience kept them from divesting of armor entirely even if it was merely leather and scant plate here or there. Sapho'li wore his hair bound at the nape of the neck, though it did little for the messy way it hung in his face. 

J'tomo brought too his lance, as he often did, and set his sights on keeping their equipment in the most ready state it could be. They passed into the bower of the trees, now largely revitalized-- some so much so that they had grown over and around the chunks of debris that had fallen. Unlike Thanalan, littered with bizarre and frightening megaliths of crystalized aether, the Shroud had largely swallowed the damage it had been dealt in the green veil of its flora and fauna.

Sapho'li carried with him the tainted pages of the Necrologos, its pages speaking of a voidsent called Vassago with the power to see the future, present, and past. 

Through the damp marshes of the Lower paths they rode on, passing only briefly through Camp Tranquil. There was no point in stopping when their goal was so close, after all. 

J'tomo had grown used to Sapho'li's emerging bookish nature-- how he devoured every tome he got his hands on before moving on to the next. He didn't think twice about the Keeper's frenzied reading-and-re-reading of the fragmented text they had recovered in raids against the cultists. 

They arrived in Quarrymill to find a very different atmosphere from how they had left it. The population had dwindled back to reasonable numbers in the town proper, though it seemed the denizens outside had swollen enough to incur clashes with the Wood Wailers. 

As the pair sat near the Chocobo stables, letting their birds rest after the long journey, Sapho'li shook his head, gaze distant. "I suppose I'd be a proper outlaw now, should we have stayed where we were. This never would have come to be under my mothers' keen eyes." At least he thought so. He still couldn't remember her clearly, only that she was strong and a bit stern: the very image of heroism and cunning. 

"And what's this 'bout the Coeurl Claw runnin' 'round with some bloke at the 'ead? That don't make no sense t'me." J'tomo chimed in, his ears going back as he expressed his displeasure. "It ain't right. Ain't natural!" 

"There's plenty since the Calamity to find that... _ain't natural_." Sapho'li responded darkly, echoing the phrase. 

It was not that the Keeper had shed his gentle and unassuming nature entirely, but since he had put down the bow, a strong sense of right and wrong-- and what _must_ be done, even if no one wants to do it-- had wound itself around his heart.

"Ye have the right of it, Saph." J'tomo answered, his dark gaze cast over to the far end of town, where a wandering priest in his hooded cowl spoke to passersby. 

"What... would you give to change it, Tomo?" Sapho'li asked after a pause. 

"Ye mean the Calamity?" 

"All of it. Everything we've lost. Everything we've forgotten. What if there existed a being with a power what could pierce through even the pall of magic stoppering up our memories?" 

"I think them Archon friends'a yers would'a found it by now." The Seeker said.

"Maybe. But mayhap their search takes them not to the right places, and sends them not deep enough. Perhaps a torch can be found only in the dark." He mused. "I'd give anything. _Everything_ ," He said to answer his own question.

"S'all nanglin' t' me," He answered. "Don't think succha thing exists." 

And Sapho'li wasn't sure either, but the texts he'd read over and over-- well, it was best not to think on it too much, right? This was a _voidsent_ they were after. 

They picked up the trail after speaking to the locals, hearing of what appeared to be a priesthood gathering in the depths of the old Deepcroft. They didn't linger for long, and tried to pass themselves off as just any old travelers, but if suspicions added up, then it was at least worth looking into. They set up camp near the mirror planks and started asking around the outskirts of Bentbranch. 

The possibilities drifted through Sapho'li's mind as the Black Shroud grew dark and the smell of mushrooms and game roasting wafted from the fire. 

"What, pray tell, do you think happened that fateful day? Do you think it's possible that my missing memories of my family aren't because I was hit in the head at all, but... but because my mother was a Warrior of Light?" 

J'tomo sat heavily with a small wooden plate in hand, offering his partner food. "Now when'd ye come up with that one? Ye larkin' with m' head?"

"No, no, I mean it not in jest at all, by no means-- Don't you see? 'Tis the same feeling, the same odd white haze whenever I search the depths of my mind and heart for their faces." 

"I 'spose yer right." J'tomo answered after a few moments, scrubbing his hand back through his messy golden hair. 

They ate in silence for awhile, perfectly comfortable in each others' company as they had been for some time while the fireflies danced in the distance. The Twelveswood really was unstoppable. Though the landscape itself had been altered, all of the growth that had been accomplished in the last five years made it almost hard to tell if you hadn't known the place before. 

When everything was scoured and put away, J'tomo patted him on the shoulder. "It's best we get some sleep." And Sapho'li nodded, but he didn't comply. 

As he felt the familiar rise and fall of J'tomo's breath not far away, he lay awake, wondering what other secrets the cults' Voidsent allies held. 

\----------------------

The wind stirring the boughs of the trees lifted J'tomo out of his solid sleep. He thought immediately of curling closer to Sapho. He always apologized; said he didn't realize he did it, but he knew that it was a lie. Just as he had steeled himself to pretend to stretch, he realized the absence of warmth on the other side of their tent. 

The Seeker's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, immediately awake. 

"Saph?" He called out, not daring to raise his voice too much. There was no answer. "Sapho?" He tried again a moment later. 

Surely, he'd just gone to take a piss or something, he insisted to his racing heart and waited. And waited. 

There was no way to know how much time had passed when he said: "T' hells with it!" and got out of bed to hop into his leather armor. 

It wasn't like Sapho'li to go off on his own. Ever since the calamity, he'd hated being alone as if the memory of the mostly solitary lifestyle of his kind was something that affronted him. He still liked his peace and quiet, sure-- some nights he'd go hours without speaking to his companion while he read or ground away and tirelessly polished the stones he brought back from the desert. --But J'tomo knew he did not like to be alone. 

Still, it had been a year or more at least since Sapho had gotten confused or dazed as he often did after the Calamity and wandered off-- he had told himself he was better. That however, did not account for the mental strain of being back in the Black Shroud. He kicked himself as he paced the encampment in the dim lights of their scant torches set up to keep the wild at bay. 

A piece of parchment caught his eye, stuck in a tangled bramble bush as if the wind had tried to carry it away and simply not made it. He plucked it free and brought it to the nearest torch. It was the sketch of the layout of the deepcroft they'd been given by the Wood Wailers assisting their investigation. Sapho'li had scratched charcoal notes here and there, mapping a way to sneak in unseen. 

_"What would you give to change it, Tomo?"_

The realization dawned on him like Rhalgr's thunder, and he stuffed the small map into his pocket. "Bugger me, that bloody berk!"

He was the smartest person J'tomo knew-- and he was stupid. So, so stupid!

The Seeker tore off into the forest and down the path so quickly that the chocobos spooked where they were tethered, chirping and mussing their feathers as he ran by. 

He huffed and puffed up the slight incline and then careened around the bend that brought him to the entrance of the Deepcroft, the area near the atrium ever-lit with torches. J'tomo skidded to a halt that scattered gravel and all but fell into a bramble bush to stay out of sight as several cloaked men stood speaking in whispers at the entrance. He took a deep breath and tried to figure out what Sapho'li's marks on the map meant. 

He crept around the side of the deepcroft and felt his way among the overgrown stones until he found a hole, barely big enough for a man to fit through. He'd struggle with it, though Sapho'li's marginally more slender build might not have. Only upon finding silvery white hairs stuck in some of the branches-- surely, Sapho'li's-- did he steel himself to the awful passage. 

Feet first he went, squirming to get through the hole and the broken masonry that separated him from the rest of the cavernous place below. He could feel things crawling and squirming on his arms and back where his shirt crept up, and for a moment it was all too much-- but then he fell from the upper part of a wall and clumsily broke his own fall by tucking his knees in. The sound of scattering masonry echoed throughout the place, but as of yet there didn't seem to be anyone to hear it-- he hoped. And he hoped that Sapho'li had fared better. 

He checked his equipment, making sure his weapons were in place, and then faced the hallway connected to the dark interring chamber. There was light filtering in from outside, signs that the place was certainly in use even though it ought not to have been. 

J'tomo took a deep breath, unstowed his lance from his back and stepped forward into the winding tunnels. 

He walked as quietly as he could, grateful that his race was as quick on their feet as they were. His tail gave him extra control where balance was concerned if nothing else. He passed the massive altar that he had read was called the Eternal Calm, relieved to find it empty-- but something else didn't feel right. There was an odd sense of something creeping over him as he passed by it. 

The world pulsed around him, and he was swallowed up in another odd vision. 

Sapho'li walked down the hall, his hands raised as he approached the cloaked men. 

"And just who might you be? Thief or Gridanian spy?" The tallest man demanded. 

"I am neither. I come seeking parley, and to commune with the Void." The cultists stopped, frowning and looking at each other with various shades of disbelief. 

"I fear I am of no secret brotherhood such as yourself. I am merely a fledgling scholar, seeking knowledge." He said, trying clearly to sound reasonable.

"Knowledge he wants, boys. 'Tis knowledge he'll get." At that, Sapho'li tried to step back, only to find that more cultists had appeared behind him. 

"A Scholar eh? A wealth of aether-- a perfect vessel. You'll see alright. You'll see everything." Before he could move, The men behind him grabbed his arms and pulled him back, lifting him from the ground as he thrashed and kicked-- and then the vision abruptly faded. 

J'tomo stumbled, feeling as though he had crashed back into his own corporeal body. He slumped against the wall, and then turned and retched to empty the contents of his stomach, overwhelmed by the same aether sickness that had come the first time-- only worse.

He didn't understand what had happened, but he knew it _had_ happened and he had to hurry. 

The Seeker gave up his thoughts of stealth and plunged deeper into the recesses of the Deepcroft, wildly tearing through Banemites and reanimated corpses that stood to bar his path. His lance knew a fury he hadn't ever considered, and he knew that for the moment it could do far more good than his more defense based sword and shield. 

Down another twisting hallway he went, past vaulted crypts reserved for ancient high-houses, and then he found it-- another great altar like the first, surrounded by a guttering darkness. In the center of the room was a fiend so ghastly that he could hardly bear to look at it. Eyes-- so many eyes stared out from its fleshy, oozing core that he couldn't count them. They rolled and shivered around the room, and its long, snaking limbs squirmed and writhed. 

Before the beast, in a knot of its writhing, awful flesh, hung Sapho'li, his clothes in tatters and his expression distant and empty. Gods, had he been too late? Was there nothing he could do? He was sure he was dead-- until he heard the gasping, awful moans and sobs. 

Then he heard its voice, terrible and inhuman-- like some drowned thing. "Then our deal is sealed. Your eyes for your greatest desire." 

"No!" 

J'tomo shouted before he had thought it through, and Sapho'li's head lolled listlessly to the side. Blearily, he could make out the shape of his companion. 

"N-no, J'tomo you _must_ run-- you must needs quit this place before it is too late," 

"I'll do it. Take me instead-- take whatever ye want, just. Just let 'im go!" 

"Anything I want?" In a flash, the nasty thing skittered over to J'tomo, suddenly so close that he could smell its stink. it held Sapho'li higher, his limbs dangling as he twitched in its squirmy hold. It made J'tomo feel indecent to look, but he wouldn't tear his eyes away. He wouldn't abandon him to such a fate. 

"Aye," He managed weakly after a moment." Anythin'." He wasn't clever like Sapho'li. He didn't know what to do. "T-Take my eyes instead." The thought was horrifying. So much so that he shook. 

"You'd offer your eyes to me, in exchange for his life?" Mused the Voidsent. 

"A-Aye."

"No," Sapho'li groaned, squirming and showing signs of fighting for the first time. "No, that's not our deal..." 

" _Shall I take the both of yours then?_ " Vassago demanded suddenly in a bellow that shook the place and brought dust and pebbles down on them. 

"N-No! W-wait. uh... What if. What if we each give one n' then-- ye'll still get a pair." He said. Haltingly. Sapho'li looked at him with pleading eyes even as he watched his hand sneak down, down-- almost close enough to close on J'tomo's holy sword. 

He moved his hand from his lance slowly as he spluttered and obfuscated, and then in a single fluid movement flipped the blade from its scabbard and into Sapho's outstretched hand. 

With all the strength he had left, he raised the blade and drove it into the demon's largest eye. In that moment J'tomo was sure he felt that odd pulse again, but no vision came with it this time, only a blinding light as the blessed nature of his sword reacted to the aether-starved beast's core and blasted them both clear of the creature's writhing clutches. 

"Curse you, Hydaelyn! Curse you, wretched Light's chosen! Curse you, damn you to the deepest pits of the seven hells!" Vassago's howling shook the place again, and a wave of darkness burst from its weakening corporeal form. 

As it swept over them, a searing pain overtook J'tomo's left eye and everything went dark.


	5. Hydaelyn

For a time, Sapho'li floated in a sea of darkness and despair. It was empty as far as the eye could see. Weightlessness and emptiness seemed to be what he deserved. He'd gotten them into this-- he'd made the most rash decision he could remember, and had gotten J'tomo pulled into it as well. 

He resigned himself to his fate and then heard a voice. 

"Hear..."

"Hello?"

"Feel... _think_."

"Who...?"

In the distance, a single pinprick of light like a star appeared. He couldn't find purchase, but he fought towards it with all of his strength. Like moving through incorporeal, murky water it was until the light came closer and grew, and grew, warming his limbs. 

Soon, he could see other lights drifting around the blazing light-- a single massive crystal.  
\----------------------------

"Can you hear me? Agh-- twelve willing, I think he's awake truly this time." The voice coming to him was a familiar one this time, though he couldn't quite place it. 

"That's what you said the three other times. One might get the idea you're smitten if you don't stop fussing, Thancred." 

"Shtola, I would _never_ \--" At the sound of their half-hearted bickering, Sapho'li finally found the strength to pry his eyes open-- well one of them anyway. The right one refused to respond no matter how hard he tried. 

With is good eye, he scanned the area and was relieved to find J'tomo in a second bed beside him, still sleeping deeply it seemed. 

"What's happened?" He managed hoarsely after a few moments, and the man he knew as a bard wheeled around, expression lit up. 

"By the gods, I was right-- See?" The woman he'd called Shtola crossed her arms over here chest, looking nearly stern despite her youthful gaze. 

"You were recovered from deep within the moldering ruins of the Tam Tara Deepcroft. I daresay if we hadn't arrived when we did it may have been too late. I'd come calling for you with your Grand Company Associates, thinking we might do well to share information only to find you'd already set out. Luckily, Y'shtola and I were hot on your heels by the time things went south." Thancred explained in his familiarly voberse manner. 

"Master ah--?" Y'shtola paused waiting for Sapho'li to offer his name. 

"Sapho." He answered dryly. 

"Sapho...? No suffix?" She asked, mystified. 

"I don't remember." He amended after a while looking away. "Nor my mother's face. Her name must have been Sapho--as is true with all boy children of our kind-- but other than that... I fear I remember little before the calamity." 

"That is what Thancred said. Anyroad, Master _Sapho_. Are you able to see alright? I did what I could via conjury for your wounds but as for your eye and his what took damage, you will have to wait and see." 

"And his?" Sapho'li turned and wilted when he realized that J'tomo's head as well was adorned in bandages. if he had only kept his head on straight-- if he hadn't given in to temptation, this wouldn't have happened. 

"When you feel up to it, the vaulted leader of our group should very much like to parley with you." Thancred interjected, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. 

"Of course, though I'd should very much like to get cleaned up. For a Paladin to be seen in such a state is disgraceful."

"Aye," Thancred answered with a knowing chuckle. "The washroom is yours to command," He gestured towards a door. "--And I've taken the liberty of replacing your adventuring clothes. Much was entirely salvageable, regrettably. I do hope it all fits." The way he said it made Sapho'li think that he didn't see it as regrettable at all. Thancred had always been rather fashion-forward in his tastes, even if he didn't dress much like it. 

Sapho'li bathed and dressed himself, only to find himself not wanting to dress at all. He stood huddled in his towel, thinking that he could never accept something as nice as what Thancred had left for him. It was foreign in nature, surely imported-- and expertly tailored. The neatly folded pile left out for J'tomo was-- even at a glance-- clearly Ala Mhigan in origin. 

He stopped and took several deep breaths, steeling himself against all that had transpired as he wriggled into the gilded vest and its golden ornaments. A little tight, but he wondered if Thancred hadn't done that intentionally as well. It was odd-- a few years before, he would've been floored to overhear that Thancred might have eyes for him-- but for some reason, now it didn't quite hit home.

Instead of going to find anyone else, he crawled up beside J'tomo and stroked his hair, waiting for him to open his eyes. 

Hours had passed when a woman in a mask who introduced herself as Yda finally managed to tempt him out into the halls of the establishment with food. He picked at it, though it was more than palatable. His mind was back down the hall, missing the constant presence that had been at his side for years. 

He was absently listening to a conversation between Y'shtola and a Lalafellen man about aetheric weather when he swore he could hear someone calling his name. Again-- a few moments later, and he jumped up at the sound of a door slamming open. 

J'tomo seemed to have woken up and in a panic, fled the room in search of his partner whom he had last seen in the clutches of a writhing Voidsent. He half-stumbled, still a filthy mess, tears having streaked the dirt on his face as he stared dumbly around the people in the room. 

"S-Saph?" Sapho'li, who had been rooted to the spot, moved immediately and rushed to the other Miqo'te's side. 

J'tomo threw his arms around him, albeit a bit weakly, and clamped him to his chest as he dissolved in a fit of sobs and failed attempts at words. "I-- I 'woke up 'lone n' you were gone-- you were _gone_." He said, muffled by Sapho'li's shoulder. 

"I'm alright.You saved me." To that, J'tomo nodded weakly and sniffled loudly to stifle his tears.

"M'sorry," Sapho'li pulled back and shook his head. 

"I'm the one who ought to apologize. You ought to hate me."

"I couldn't never, never, Saph--" 

"Shh." Sapho'li shushed him gently, and tried to ignore the eyes on them in the doorway. Everyone had gone quiet, feeling as though they were intruding on a private moment that had in fact intruded upon them first.  
\------------------------------

It turned out, after sitting through several lecture-long discussions, that the light that had protected them-- and projected the memories of others into their mind-- was called the Echo, and that the crystal whose voice had called to them was none other than Hydaelen herself, the heart of the planet: The Mother Crystal. 

More lecturing was the last thing that they needed. Though Sapho'li documented what he heard in his mind as best he could, he and J'tomo had fallen into an odd kind of quiet: a place that only the two of them seemed able to enter. So, something was coming. As if the planet itself was stirring and reaching out-- but why? Was it another calamity? Something as world-shattering as whatever had happened five years prior?

He haunted the halls of the Waking Sands with J'tomo's hand resting open and upward in his, muttering in tones the others could not hear, nor understand. 

It was strange to think that it was easy to forget the small lives they had built for themselves in Ul'dah-- and he thought that maybe he might. It was with an odd sort of numbness that the two of the gave in to the nudgings of their old friends, now fellow Scions. There was much and more that needed to be done. They operated outside the bounds of the common folk, outside the trappings of the Grand Companies themselves. 

The bandages came off, not long after these epiphanies. Sapho'li's eyesight did not return, and the discoloration of his iris haunted him so much so that he covered it from the very start. His ability to trace aether with said eye would not be realized until much later-- and he had little time to think on it.

Three weeks to the day of the incident in the deepcroft, they were awoken by Yda and Papalymo, who were being sent back to the Shroud to watch Baelsar's Wall. They were on their way out-- but Minfilia and the others wanted them in the Solar. 

The Garleans were on the move, and Gaius Van Baelsar himself was said to be at the head of whatever diabolical scheme they had in store for Eorzea this time. With Urianger disseminating information and Thancred doggedly translating-- a clear picture of what was to come began to unfold. They must stop the Beast tribes' Primals while also keeping an eye on whatever the Empire was up to. Another war, just from a different perspective. 

"There is much and more to be done, and we must needs split our forces. We hae need of your skills as well as your gift. Hydaelyn's blessing protects you from Primal influence, you see. With this in mind, after your venture to the three city states for the rembemberance ceremonies-- I would have J'tomo travel to the Coerthas Central Highlands, to the Observatorium. And you, Sapho'li-- must see to things in Ul'dah for a bit longer."

The pair looked at each other, trying not to show their concern. Sapho'li had resigned himself to silence, but J'tomo spoke up stubbornly. 

"Aye, we've both got this gift you speak of, but I don't think ye realize-- I've been Saph's caretaker since the Calamity. He... He doesn't always think straight or. Remember things. Ye can't expect him to carry a mission like this on his own." 

Minfilia looked rather blank-- as though she hadn't foreseen such a turn of events. Sapho'li found himself thinking that she must be terribly young-- probably younger than they were, and yet found herself in this position of leadership. He took a deep breath and pushed past fear to speak. 

"I will do it. We must-- for the sake of Eorzea, I will see it done." 

J'tomo looked at him, his jaw set and teeth gritted. He knew what he was thinking-- after what he'd pulled in the shroud, was there any way he could trust him not to do something immensely stupid in a fit of grief or rage-- ever again? 

Minfilia looked relieved, and J'tomo never found a chance for the outburst waiting on his lips. "Wonderful! And-- J'tomo, you are a lancer, correct? Then you'll do well on this journey to speak with the locals. Ishgard is the home an heart of the art! Your prowess with the lance may open you a chance at connection that we've yet to manage." 

He deflated slightly and gave a curt nod: "Yes, my lady." 

"Good. Sapho'li, it is your gift with diplomacy, and the Sultana's fondness for you, that will serve you in your mission." He nodded slowly. 

Gift with diplomacy? Who had said that about him? He couldn't really understand, but he'd take it. Mayhap it was an undiscovered talent he'd not realized just yet.

He was afraid, and sad. Lonely even though they hadn't been sent on their separate ways just yet. He knew that the weight of what they were facing would be crushing without the support they'd grown so reliant on in those years since the Calamity. 

As the room cleared out, the meeting adjourned, he lingered near J'tomo, trying to sense his mood. "You're finally going to get to see it." 

"What?" His companion asked, looking startled-- as if he'd been woken from sleep. 

"Ishgard. Haven't you always wanted to go there? You're going to need some warm furs." Sapho'li mused. 

"Aye... Ishgard. Home of the Knights Dragoon. With doom and another apocalypse looming over our heads." 

"It will be alright. We will make it so." Sapho'li answered with a bit more confidence than he thought he really had. 

It was only beginning, but their paths would reconvene again soon enough, on the eve of a terrible, bloody banquet.


End file.
